


Jump (let's build our wings on the way down)

by pollitt



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, New Year's Eve, Stiles and Derek sitting in the Jeep k-i-s-s-i-n-g
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 14:02:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollitt/pseuds/pollitt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Derek, your house is held together by sheer will and I have no idea how it still has electricity, it’s New Year’s Eve, and I realized I’d rather be here with you than drinking and dancing in a structurally-stable house with everyone else.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jump (let's build our wings on the way down)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, as ever, to Data for the cheerleading and beta, and for the prompt: Stiles/Derek, New Year's Eve/Day.
> 
> The title was inspired by a quote from Ray Bradbury, _"You’ve got to jump off cliffs all the time and build your wings on the way down."_

Stiles knows something has changed, has really and truly changed, when he finds himself looking at his watch for the third time in twenty minutes while also trying to figure out where to ditch his barely-sipped beer. 

“Dude, I think I’m going to get out of here,” he says when he spots Scott by the food table. 

Scott turns, a cheese, meat, and cracker sandwich held between his teeth, his eyes wide. “But it’s New Year’s Eve,” Scott says after he’s done eating. 

“I know.” Stiles sets his beer on the table edge next to a small collection of empties. 

“At Lydia’s,” Scott adds.

“Yes.”

“And she’s single,” Scott emphasizes.

“I am aware of that fact, my friend.” Stiles pats his pockets, trying to remember which one has his phone and which one holds his keys. 

Scott looks down at his watch. “And it’s eleven.”

“Scott, I know.” It comes out a bit harsher than Stiles was intending, but he can’t really identify, much less put into words that would make any real sense, what exactly the knot of anxious energy is that’s making him just feel like he needs to be … somewhere else. “You can catch a ride with someone, right?”

“What? Yeah. Sure.” Scott’s forehead is creased and Stiles is going to owe him an explanation -- once he figures out what that explanation is. 

“Thanks. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Stiles reaches up and squeezes Scott’s bicep before he goes off in search of Lydia so he can give his regrets. 

“Better offer?” Lydia asks when he tells her he’s leaving, her eyes narrow and Stiles has the distinct feeling he’s being analyzed. 

Stiles doesn’t know how to answer that one and there are gods and probably other supernatural beings looking out for him right now, because Lydia doesn’t comment about how rare it is that he’s speechless. She just looks at him for another really long moment, and there might be a quirk to that perfect mouth of hers, before she turns back to her party with a “have a great night.”

Stiles is texting with one hand and fishing the Jeep’s keys out with the other and by the time he’s started the engine he already has a reply.

ooooo

“What did you need to ask me in person that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” Derek asks when Stiles arrives at the Hale house.

Stiles zips up his jacket and looks up at Derek. He takes a minute to consider his answer. Derek isn’t exactly one for small talk, but Stiles wasn’t expecting him to cut to the chase quite so quickly.

“You texted me ‘need to ask you something. Tonight.’ What was it you needed to ask?” Derek repeats. He doesn’t look angry, or even annoyed, just... tersely curious. And Stiles would prefer to keep him away from those first two. 

“Do you wanna go and get some food?” Stiles says, wincing only slightly at how awkward that might have sounded. 

Derek looks at him like Stiles just asked if he wanted box seats to a revival of _Cats_. “What?” 

“Food. Tonight. You and me. Would you like to go?” Stiles repeats.

“Aren’t you? Isn’t everyone at Lydia’s party?” Derek asks, and Stiles can’t help but be relieved that that his answer wasn’t an immediate ‘no.’

“They are. And I was there--”

“Why aren’t you still?”

And there it is, the answer, or at least one of them. “You said you didn’t have any plans and were just going to work on stuff here.”

“So?” 

“Derek, your house is held together by sheer will and I have no idea how it still has electricity, it’s New Year’s Eve, and I realized I’d rather be here with you than drinking and dancing in a structurally-stable house with everyone else.”

Stiles stops, cursing his fast brain and faster mouth. But what’s said has been said, and Derek’s eyes have gone a bit wide, but there’s no flash of red and no fangs or claws, so Stiles takes a deep breath and finishes. 

“So, food?”

“So that was the question?” Derek asks, raising his eyebrow and smiling, his teeth flashing in the moonlight. 

If Stiles had to describe it, he’d venture to say it was something like a happy smile. And while Stiles is focused on Derek’s mouth, he also makes note that Derek still hasn’t said ‘no.’

“Something like that,” Stiles answers, feeling his cheeks tug at his smile as Derek walks down toward the Jeep.

ooooo

“I hope you don’t mind drive thru. I thought we could pick something up and maybe watch the fireworks,” Stiles says when they’re in their seats. “I think any sit down place would be either closed or packed with people who planned ahead with reservations.”

“Yeah, this seems like kind of a last-minute plan.” 

“It’s at least half an hour old,” Stiles says and throws the Jeep into first gear.

“So about the same as most of your plans?”

“Hey, hey, be nice. I am sparing you from having to spend New Year’s Eve alone, where’s the gratitude?” 

“I didn’t ask--”

“Just say ‘thank you, Stiles,’ and let’s get some food.”

“Thank you, Stiles,” Derek says.

“You’re welcome.”

ooooo

Stiles may have only had a dim idea of what he was going to do when he left Lydia’s, and he’s never exactly sure what's exactly going on with him and Derek, but he can’t help but notice that neither of them ordered onions on their burgers.

“I miss Dick Clark, even if he was always counting down three hours ahead of schedule. The era of a solo Carson Daly is something I’m just not ready for,” Stiles says, parking the Jeep at an overlook with a perfect view of the Beacon Hills fireworks.

“You’re weird,” Derek says, the smile on his face softening the words. He looks down at the drink in his hand. “Did you really leave Lydia’s just because I said I wasn’t doing anything for New Year’s?”

“Would I be any less weird if I said yes?” Stiles asks. 

“No,” Derek laughs. 

The wind picks up the sound of cheers from the crowd watching the fireworks below, and the scream of lit explosives cut through the air before the bursts of light mark the new year. 

“Happy New Year, Stiles,” Derek says, leaning over and kissing him. 

“You too,” Stiles answers, pressing in again for another kiss, because it seems like the best way to start the year off right. 

Derek unbuckles his seatbelt and then slides his hand over to unbuckle Stiles’s, pulling him closer. What had been a New Year’s kiss becomes something more. 

And that, Stiles realizes, had be the whole plan all along.


End file.
